Uncle old-time Charlie threw his fiddle up a tree
My brother told me 'simmons was the thing that got his goat:
He'd sat there on the back porch, drinking Elum tea,
And went he finally went to eat there wasn't any soap.

There wasn't any victuals, nor any silverware,
There wasn't any plates nor cups nor no place to sit down,
There wasn't any table, there wasn't any chair,
And his wife was in the living room without no underwear.
(chorus)

Charlie, Oh Charlie, your name will always be,
You took my grampaw's fiddle and you throw'd it up a tree,
They say you ate the 'simmons that had landed on the ground,
And when you pitched that fiddle up they say you shot it down.

Well old-time Charlie looked and looked, his house was awful strange,
The clock was running back'ards, the upstairs felt like rain,
His couch was lying on the floor his car was in the ditch,
He picked up grampaw's fiddle but it wouldn't get in pitch

Old Charlie wound and tuned and tuned, he twisted all them wires,
He put his E on Mercury he put his G on Mars,
His head was spinning like the Moon is spinning round the Earth,
He rosined up his bow a spell but took an awful thirst.
(chorus)

By the time he got his pistol out the 'simmon punch was gone,
The Sun has passed behind the ridge, evening was coming on,
It took him twenty cartergize -- ey god he got 'er down --
He dragged his leg into the house and left er on the ground!
(chorus)